From Pain to Pleasure
by Aranel Naur
Summary: From frustration to peace and comfort, from anger to joy, from despair to hope and forgiveness. Love and hatred. A collection of short Deidara centered oneshots.


**Author's notes:** the draft of the story was ready a long time ago so it was a quite easy fic to write. However there is one difficulty, it's almost 2AM and I haven't yet finished typing it so I'm a bit tired.

Saso х Dei is not the pairing I stick to as a rule, but at least it was something new I gave a try to.

As to the style of it. That's the manner I write my fics in Russian, with lots of meditation musing thinking revealing inner conflicts and serious problems we come across in life. I don't write humorous fics, on the contrary, I'd sooner create tragic angsty ones.

Anyway, I'd be most grateful if you read and review)

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**Smoke**

He's smoking. Nothing out of the ordinary, a simple act, the habit he's got accustomed to. What's so unusual about it? Something that makes him special, almost unique, nearly non-human and absolutely incredible. You watch him in silence, stare at him calmly yet devouring with your eyes. He's making you want, crave, desire, lust for him. Like you'd go for him and still you are paralyzed. Speechless. And thoughtless. He's just smoking. So peaceful, relaxed, so faraway so different from you but something forces you to stick together like two opposite poles of a magnet, like Yin and Yang, Earth and Heaven…

- Deidara… - he whispers releasing a puff of blue smoke.

It's quiet. He's serene and looking sideways, somewhere aside. The room's stuffy and gloomy and items seem to have lost their shape melting in the quietness and darkness of the place. Cigarette smoke hangs in the thickening air enveloping every single thing in here. All looks frozen, motionless.

A half-empty bottle of Martini on the table, wrappers scattered all over the floor, orange peel, ashtray full of stumps… Indigo colour mixes with warm cigarette smell flying there as if probing touching the room, the clothes, caressing your hair, skin. Everything is smothered with it.

You feel a bit dizzy, a pleasant warmth leaking through the body, each next sip provokes a wave to wash you over from head to foot but it's not the alcohol that gets you drunk, rather the thought of him being here so close beside you while you are looking fixedly at the red flickering firelet of the slowly dying out stick between his fingers. He's staring at you, but unseeingly. Glance through the grey smoke… he's so serious or it may be your imagination, it may be the mist that distorts the vision… who cares? His arm stretches out forward across the table and the palm covers up yours. Comfort. Delight.

Face flushing. A lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow. Even the ice on the bottom of your glass would be of little use. There's only one way out, you are desperately sending away this precious moment to enjoy it later to the fullest. Just wait a tad more. You are shivering and so is the flame of his lighter – on with the next nicotine. Lips are dry as you lick them savouring the orange plus Martini aftertaste. This very taste and the rapidly beating heart of yours are the only things of importance now. Ash falls down on the floor, cigarette burns his fingers. He keeps on glaring observing you so intensely that it seems like his eyes don't exist. Nothing matters. Nothing except for the reflection of the red fire and the smoke devouring you two.

You are so attached to him, cannot live without him. Not even a day.

You feel like transforming into mysterious smoke to get inside him to let him inhale you to be all over him to turn into the smell of his hair, his skin and thus become a part of him.

You are together. His hands on your hips. Gently your fingertips come in contact with his shoulders. The heated and a little sticky flesh smells of costly exclusive aftershave blended with cigarette smoke as you pleasurably breathe it in.

You stand unmoving, simply look at each other like this, sensing one another. Hot breathing burns your neck. You hear his deep sighs when he tickles your cheek with his eyelashes. Lips… ever-so close… a kiss lingers though. This nearness means much more than kisses. He's there.

At last he bends forwards slightly brushing up his lips against yours and you perceive the exceptional cigarette taste on them. Knees are starting to shake and body stops to obey you. Hand sliding freely over him while eyes are closed and you find him learning your form as if for the first time. Fingers on your face following repeating the features, he goes lower contemplating your neck and shoulders…

He's smoking another one. This time you had helped him to light it up. In the shimmering of a tiny yellow-blue sparkle his dark eyes appear to be way too shady and even deeper. A smile beautifies his face and his hand approaches to hold yours.

- Deidara… - he whispers releasing a puff of blue smoke.


End file.
